Goodbye Letter
by atomicarly
Summary: Drarry. The war is right around the corner and the outcome looks grim; Draco decides he needs to leave a little something of himself behind and say everything he needs to before its too late. Rated K for Chapter 1 though rating will change as story progresses. The Drarry is light but will thicken, again, as story progresses.


AN/ So, I've decided to reread the Harry Potter books (as is my December tradition) which put me in a Drarry mood, but unfortunately not many works to choose from. It's been a while since I've written _anything_, so I may be a bit stiff in this.  
And yes, it is a letter-fic. At least for Chapter 1; I can easily see myself continuing this, so let me know if you'd like to see some more. If I do continue, it will be in real-time and third-person with a bumped rating, and I guess this chapter will turn into a type of prelude.  
For now, though, it's not much more than Draco reflecting upon his past with a very _very_ lightly implied crush. I'd like to extend this a bit further, maybe delve into Draco's thought process some more. But I couldn't see Draco spilling his guts in a letter. That just seemed very OOC.

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_They started during my fourth year at Hogwarts. Thoughts and opinions that didn't feel like my own kept forming in my head. They would start as a simple feeling, a sense of __**wrongness**__, when my father invited his 'co-workers' over for dinner. My mother tried to keep the truth from me, she tried to shield me from what those men were, what my father was-is. But I think I've always known the truth._

_I saw the Mark once when I was young. He caught me looking and slammed his door shut before I could get a good look at it. Mother told me it was a birth mark and nothing I need to concern myself with. I think that's when I realized my father was not who I thought he was. Of course, I never saw him as a good man in the first place, not really. He was cold and distant; he never touched me unless he was either angry with me or very proud of me and even then it was the barest of contact. He was unnecessarily cruel to the elves, Dobby especially. He spat when we passed mudbloods and bloodtraitors on the street. Mother said he was just stressed from work, but now I know differently. It's his personality. It's who he is. And I was becoming just like him._

_When Potter appeared in the field with Diggory's corpse, claiming Voldemort had returned and killed him, a rather unsettling knot settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I was afraid. There was speculation that Potter was lying and that Voldemort had not truly returned. Umbridge even made it her personal mission to dispel every word from his lips, but I believed him the moment I saw him clinging to Diggory's dead body. Voldemort was back. And I was going to meet him soon. I could feel it._

_For weeks I played with the idea of not returning home at all. I could board a random train and wait out the summer in a muggle boarding house, even if the idea sent spiders down my spine. The thought of meeting Voldemort was far worse than living with muggles for a summer. I would survive. But I knew it wouldn't last. I knew he'd find me and bring me home and the punishment for running away (with muggles, no less) would no doubt be severe. _

_That was when I decided that these thoughts and opinions were nothing. I was simply young and full of stupid questions and false conclusions. It was a silly phase that would pass (like my fear of Merpeople, I told myself). I lived my whole life with my father and I trusted him. I knew that despite his cold exterior, he loved his family and he wouldn't let me come to harm._

_I kept telling myself that as I walked up the pathway to my house, only to be greeted by my parents and an unfamiliar wizard with a pale face and black robes._

_That summer went by slowly. Voldemort only visited a few times, but when he came he seemed to take an interest in me. I had no idea at the time what would happen, but sometimes I could feel him inside my head. I figured out pretty quickly what was happening and used Occulemcy whenever he was visiting. I think he knew what I was doing, which only seemed to interest him more. Father seemed pleased with me whenever Voldemort left, which was a small relief in lieu of everything else that was going on._

_But that was the last innocent summer I had._

_After my fifth year I was brought into the light (or dark depending on how you looked at it). Voldemort chose me. I was brought into his circle, just like father. Only father was in Azkaban at this point, so I suppose I filled in for his absence, in a way. I was branded with The Dark Mark and given a task to prove my worth. I was more scared now than I had ever been before. Mother looked at me with sympathy and fear for she believed my initiation was Voldemort's way of punishing my father for his failure at the ministry. I understood the gravity of the situation, despite what my mother thought. I knew I had to complete the mission flawlessly or else he'd kill me. I couldn't fail like Father._

_Snape took me under his wing. He helped me plan it, encouraged me where I needed encouragement. I knew he was doing it because of his promise, but I was thankful for it, really I was. I would have cracked long before that night had he not been by my side. His door was always open for me, he never turned away when I needed him and I will never forget him for it. And when the night finally came, I realized I couldn't do it. Everything that I had worked so hard to seal away was suddenly freely consuming my mind. I couldn't kill him. I couldn't kill anyone. This was __**wrong**__. I lowered my wand in defeat and accepted my fate. Maybe Dumbledore would understand what's happened. Maybe he could help me, protect me like he protected Potter all these years. I wanted to ask him. I was ready to throw myself at his feet and beg, but then there was a flash of green and I was staring at a corpse. Dumbledore's body shattered on the stone courtyard along with any hope I may have had in those few moments. I resealed what needed to be sealed and followed Snape and the others as we fled from the grounds. _

_That was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I knew what I was running into, but I just couldn't stop. All I had left in this world was my Potions professor and all I could do was follow him._

_Everything was a blur after that. My father lost what was left of his rational thought. Sometimes I found him talking to himself and shaking. He feared both Voldemort's wrath and nonexistent dementors (which he 'saw' frequently after he came home from Azkaban). He lost the battle in the Ministry and he knew he would be punished for it, but he drove himself mad wondering when and how, considering I 'successfully' preformed the mission I was destined to fail. Mother kept her composure for my sake, I think, but I could tell she was falling apart, as well. _

_Potter was on the run. It worried me when I thought that he was out there alone with such a task laid before him. Granted he wasn't alone, he had Granger and Weasley with him. But I knew the Death Eaters now. I was one of them. I knew what they were capable of and I found myself scared for them, despite everything. Deep down I wanted them to hurry up with whatever they were doing and finish this already. I wanted out from Voldemort's grasp. I wanted away from my parents. I wanted away from everything. Now that I look back at it, I think I wanted to be with them, instead. Maybe if… Well, there's no point in thinking about that now._

_I started to hear whispers around school about Potter. Some said he was running, others said he was gaining power to fight Voldemort head-on. I didn't know the truth; I honestly just hoped he was okay._

_When I went home for winter break that year, Voldemort was getting nervous. I knew something was wrong, something wasn't going according to plan and he was scared. There were more killings than usual and I kept to my room as much as I possibly could. But then, one night, a storm erupted in my dining room. I was called down; apparently they thought they found Potter and needed my confirmation._

_My heart was racing with fear though I tried not to let it show. If Potter was captured, it meant the end. It meant he would be killed and Voldemort would win. I swallowed down those thoughts and braced myself. I walked into my dining room, searching for those familiar green eyes. But what I found was a swollen face, unrecognizable._

_Then I looked closer and saw. It __**was**__ him. It was Harry Potter in my dining room…captured. My heart sunk as I looked into those eyes, so unlike the Harry Potter I knew in school when they only gazed upon me with anger and hatred. Now they looked at me with a plea for my silence. _

'_No,' I wanted to say. 'No, that's not him.'_

_I wanted so badly to say it. But I couldn't. I knew the consequences of lying about something so dire. Potter was in our grasp and if it comes to light that I was the reason he was freed….I don't even want to think about it._

"_I can't be sure," I said instead. _

_I don't remember what happened after that. But I know Dobby appaparated out of the manor with Potter and the others. I also know that my Aunt probably killed one of them; there was no ignoring that fact. She threw her knife in, and one of them was impaled. It was impossible to know which and for purely selfish reasons, I hoped it wasn't Potter. I don't think I could live with myself if I found out that the knife had killed Harry._

Draco stared at the name he had written on his paper. _Harry_. He wondered if he had any right to call him that, given everything that's happened-everything he'd _done_, but quickly dispelled that train of thought. He didn't care at this point if Harry would have qualms with him using his first name. There's a war coming and Draco should be able to say what he pleases, considering its likely he'll die in the crossfire.

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AN/ I know there's virtually no Drarry in this, but like I mentioned before I just can't see Draco acting like a love-sick teenager pinning over the Hero when he's in such a serious situation regarding his life. If I do continue this (you _will_ let me know if you want to see more, wont you?) the Drarry will be there, but it will probably be slow going. I feel like anything else would be OOC, and besides, what's life without a little build-up?

Anyway, thank you so much for reading and let me know if you find any mistakes, whether its grammar, spelling, or canon. And I hope I'll see you soon!


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